


Going Incorginito (there's a place here for you with me Remix)

by kageillusionz



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 101 Dalmatians AU, Also a bad quotation of Pride and Prejudice, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bad Puns, Corgis, Crack, Dog(s), Humour, M/M, Matchmaking, New York City, Or really to be more accurate it's the 4 Corgis AU, Siblings, This is the one where the kids are Corgis and are trying to set Charles up with Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the tale of how the diabolical matchmaking plans of four corgis owned by one of New York City's most eligible bachelors  actually succeeds. It involves a variety of methods to get their human pet to wake up at the crack of dawn, a hilarious heart-to-heart and mentions of showing pandas porn.  It begins with "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of four frankly very handsome corgis must be in want for a mate."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Incorginito (there's a place here for you with me Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afrocurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [there's a place here for you with me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/397285) by [afrocurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl). 



> This is a pseudo-101 Dalmatians AU... only without the puppies.
> 
> Because writing about four corgis matchmaking their human pet (their owner, really, but don't let the corgis hear you) is hilarious. And also because Charles is hopelessly adorable, as always. Hopefully my funny is still working for this work!
> 
> Thank you for allowing me to play in your sandbox **afrocurl** , and also all my hobnobs belong to my beta.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of four frankly very handsome corgis must be in want for a mate. However little known the feelings or views of this mate may be upon first running past the black cast iron gates that lead to the outside and walkies, this truth is so well fixed into the inferior minds of the surrounding mutts in the neighbourhood, that this mate is immediately considered the rightful property of someone or other of their human pets. 

Despite how clever and generous their pet is, Charles F. Xavier needs all the help he can get in that department. Especially if his record as of late is the standard to be measured against.

Mystique, a tan Pembroke Welsh Corgi of exceptional intelligence, is the eldest of four corgis and the defacto leader. She is lightning quick on her paws and even quicker in the mind than the average corgi. It is a little known fact that those born of such high-standing pedigree may sometimes bear extraordinary gifts. These gifts sometimes manifest in abilities not normally attributed to dogs: the gift of comprehending human speech. 

And certainly if Charles knew, Mystique doubts he would have admitted to half the things he had said in between the ad breaks of the latest episode of Doctor Who. Like the fact that Charles can’t keep his eyes off the fellow from the Acqua di Gio advertisements with the abs that must have been chiselled from marble - Charles’ own words with an extra wistful sigh - and oh the number of things Charles wouldn’t mind this man doing to him or vice versa. 

She gave him her most disapproving look, an almost perfect copy of Beast’s. But Charles misinterpreted and ended up scratching her behind the ears - which was an acceptable turn of events - even as she begrudgingly admits in hindsight that she knew nothing about what defines human beauty in Charles’ eyes. Despite being a corgi and a poor judge of attractive qualities in a human mate, once she had parsed together a rough idea, Mystique was determined to give it her best shot. And how will she be able to help Charles land the perfect mate of his dreams, when said aforementioned mate runs past their gates? Well, every little thing helped. 

All is fair in love and war as the human saying went. 

And Mystique is certainly keeping her eyes on the prize as a rather sweaty looking man runs past their gate, his white T-shirt sticking to his rather well-defined abs. Not quite Acqua di Gio man but certainly close enough, Mystique thinks to herself as the man disappears down the street.

***

"Who wants their Innova kibble this morning?” Charles’ voice calls out from the kitchen. Banshee and Beast’s heads perk up at the sound of the word ‘kibble’ and food being shaken into ceramic bowls. Exchanging a quick glance at one another, they bound out of bed and downstairs into the kitchen, nails making clicking sounds upon the kitchen’s tiled flooring as their paws scrambled to work so early in the morning. Havok yawns widely and pads in after his brothers; he hates mornings with a passion but the food will soon be gone if he didn’t at least make an effort to be downstairs.

“Is it you, Beast or maybe you, Banshee? Wait. Why am I even asking you? You’ll always want food." Banshee agrees with a cheerful yip that makes Charles chuckle. As the youngest of the corgis, Banshee is the loveable one that gets away with everything - even chewing up Charles’ cherished favourite pair of socks with the funny swirly patterns. (That is deoxyribonucleic acid which makes up the human DNA, Beast explains to her once.)

"Mystique? Where are you?" Charles calls out, his voice travelling up the stairs. Mystique stays seated on the window seat in Charles’ bedroom, stubbornly waiting for Running Man to come back. If only Charles wakes up earlier in the morning, then he would be able to catch a glimpse of Running Man, thus completing the first phase of her mission. 

She doesn’t move, keeping her silent vigil by the windows in case Running Man returns to the park after forgetting a shoe like she did sometimes. Her stomach makes itself known grumpily and loudly. The clock ticks in the corner: One tick, two ticks, three.

“Come downstairs, breakfast is ready!”

Her stomach wins this round and she pulls away from the window with a small whine. Next time, she will be prepared.

***

"What do you mean train him?" asks Beast as he watches Banshee and Havok pull on a tug toy between them.

Her brothers were not as gifted at understanding human speech as their sister, but Mystique loved them dearly regardless. Beast was definitely far cleverer than his siblings though when it came to understanding their pets passion and profession, a likely result from being talked to for hours on end in Charles’ little study. But, Mystique knew to trust his judgement when planning the best approach of getting Charles to notice Running Man.

She explains carefully the first part of her plan to Beast as they are left to their own devices when their pet gets out of the house to do human work. "It is the only logical conclusion to wake him up early enough to see Running Man."

"But what if he gets angry? I don't like it when he’s angry," Havok growls out as he pulls Banshee down the length of the corridor with his strength alone. The match between Banshee and Havok is uneven and definitely falls in the latter’s favour, but Banshee never stops trying. Given Charles predisposition to spoil her brothers rotten, Mystique is convinced that won't happen. He loves them far too much to let anything happen to them.

"He won't stop feeding us, will he?" asks Banshee worriedly as he drops the chew toy in favour of nudging at her with his nose.

"Neither of that will happen," she says, confidently. "At least it won't if he looks at Running Man like he did the guy off the moving box.” 

The last scolding they received from Charles had turned into an impassioned rant about insufficient funding for one of his latest projects that Beast had listened raptly; Mystique knows they will be in the clear. 

“He won’t blame us for trying.”

Her brothers grumble but acquiesce in the end.

Banshee noses at Mystique’s face next, making her nose twitch irritably. “What we really need is a cunning plan,” he says at last, looking superbly proud of himself.

***

Waking Charles up before 7 proves to be more difficult than they first expected and weeks go by with Running Man being none the wiser about the most eligible human bachelor in New York. How could any human possibly refuse a relationship with their pet knowing true happiness comes complete with a three storey brownstone and four handsome corgis?

The closest they got with rousing Charles had been sometime last week when Charles had miraculously gotten up in the ballpark of 6.30 - which was a generous way of saying 6.45 - after he finished rolling about underneath his covers, whining and cursing the orbital patterns of the Earth around the Sun. So really, it was not much closer to the 5.30 they are aiming for when the man runs past their gates, but Mystique still considers it a win, no matter how small.

By this time next week, Charles will start getting up at 6 to avoid having his face sat on by the likes of his corgis.

Havok will be pleased by how well his idea worked.

***

“I don’t know what has gotten into them lately,” says Charles as he tiredly marks his student’s something or other, seated as he is at the kitchen island counter. Raven laughs at her brother’s corgi conspiracy, attending to her pasta sauce with wooden spoon and spices. 

“I finally installed that dog door over the weekend-”

“Oh, that project. The one that you picked up when you were still dating Steve because quote, Raven my dogs won’t stop ruining my sex life, unquote? Didn’t you squirrel the door away into the attic after you and Steve broke up?” Raven asks, bending down to give Mystique’s ears a fond scratch when the tan corgi walks past for a drink of water.

Charles nods. “The one and the same.” He sighs. “I don’t know what they want. They’ve taken to waking me up at the crack of dawn these days to bound into the backyard. Sometimes to bark at a leaf and sometimes for no apparent reason at all. I look like a panda, Raven.”

Havok whines and plants his paws on the bottom rung of Charles’ stool, looking apologetically up at him, his little blue eyes begging him for pettings. Charles’ anger at his corgis crumbles like a house of cards against a slight wind, his stool making a scraping sound as he pushes away from the counter and scoops Havok into his lap.

“A panda who hasn’t been getting laid lately,” she comments, putting the lid onto the saucepan to allow the pasta to simmer. “Zookeepers show porn to help get pandas in the mood, you know. Maybe you should-” She grins roguishly and joins Charles at the island counter, lifting Mystique into her arms for a cuddle; Mystique happily licks Raven’s cheek.

“Raven!” exclaims Charles, looking aghast.

“What? It’s the truth and you know it. You’ve been bemoaning about the lack of it in your life and since you don’t have many friends-”

“Hey! I have friends, thank you very much.”

Raven continues as if Charles hadn’t interrupted her. “-many friends, that isn’t a. Hank because we know how deplorable his relationship advice is as I’m the one dating him and it took me months of wooing to finally get him to notice; or b. Moira because she’s your ex and we all know how she gets, the Scottish blood in her makes her irrationally angry; or c. Tony because he’s another one of your exes and really Tony Stark is probably the worst person ever to ask advice for anything involving people, his words not mine; or d. Steve because he is your most recent ex and now it’s awkward since he is the last person to get into your pants, one night stands between then and now notwithstanding. So guess who gets to hear the largest portion of your bitching about your personal life? Yes, that’s right. Me, your dutiful and beautiful little sister who comes weekly to hear you bitch some more and cooks so you don’t starve in the interim.”

Charles blinks at her owlishly, exchanging a quick glance with Havok and wonders if he had been complaining all that much to Raven about his love life. And had he really dated all of his friends? That’s a little awkward. “Um…”

“Look, I get it. You’re busy with your own thing and hardly have the time, I really do. But a little thanks and recognition would be nice, Charles.” She ends her rant with a small huff and as if on cue Mystique punctuates with a bark of support. Traitor. 

“You do know that the internet is for porn right?”

Charles feels abashed. “I can hardly forget given your propensity for singing Avenue Q songs whenever I am within earshot, Raven.”

“Good. I was just checking. And if you ever need to hit me up for links, I have that you may be interested in like…”

“No please. Stop.” Charles shuts his eyes and tries not to think of the list of things that could have been said. “I hardly have the time to be doing … that when the corgis keep waking me up by sitting on my face.”

Raven rolls her eyes as Mystique barks at him, her face looks awfully smug for a dog’s. “Have you tried thinking about it from their point of view?”

“What.”

Raven shrugs and puts Mystique back onto the floor to stir the pasta sauce. “You know. Look at the problem from another perspective. Maybe there’s something you’re missing, you know, aside from the warm body that could be spooned up behind you or you could be spooned around. Hank makes a surprisingly good little spoon.”

“Please,” Charles pleads as he drops his forehead into Havok’s fur and closes his eyes, hoping and willing for his sister to not go further into any detail. “Stop.” There are some things he really does not need to know about his sister and his best ex-student.

She laughs at him, flicks some water in his direction and then begins to plate up dinner.

***

During their daily walkies in the afternoon with Charles, Mystique and Beast whisper amongst themselves the entire way there. The plan had to move on from phase one but for that to happen Charles still needed to see with his own eyes and then, if he doesn’t stray from the plan, fall in love irrevocably with Running Man and then they will be stupidly happy when have their young. (Mystique doesn’t quite understand the full mechanics of how they happen but knows that they tend to appear when two humans live together for a long enough period of time. Humans are so confusing in that regard.)

Beast sighs as they wait for the light to change from red to green. “I don’t think that’s how human physiology works.” Beast is possibly the only one that comprehends the moving pictures Charles watches on the box bright box with sounds; like her, Havok has no interest and Banshee is more than likely to be entertained by his own paws all afternoon.

“Of course it does,” Mystique retorts as she scratches her ear with her hind foot. “How do you think we came about?” They ignore Banshee as they youngest corgi counts down and mutters ‘stop’ under his breath, barking at a pink vespa that wooshes past when it doesn’t.

“If my calculations are correct, the running man and our Charles will not result in small human children. It is impossible for them to procreate in such a manner,” Beast says in a low voice as they cross the road.

“Then what was he doing with Steve or Tony?” Mystique asks smugly, having scratched at Charles’ door on more than one occasion howling when he disappeared behind his bedroom door.

“I…. I’m not sure,” Beast admits, frowning as they make it to the park and Charles finally lets them loose from their leashes, fishing a tennis ball out of his pocket, seeking to amuse both Havok and Banshee. Mystique flops onto the grass next to Beast and rolls about merrily, little blades of grass and seeds sticking to her fur.

“Besides, Charles needs someone aside from Raven and us to remind him that he isn’t lonely.”

Beast looks at her skeptically. “So you’re trying to set him up with a complete stranger. How do we know he isn’t a corgi killer?”

She blinks at him then lets out a laugh. “Stop being so paranoid. They have yet to meet, remember?” They raise their heads when a loud high-pitched squeal fills the park, watching with alarm as a small herd of human children run like the wind in their direction.

Grubby fingers, tiny humans and pettings are readily available, but Beast dislikes how they call him ‘puppy’ which is an unfortunate pitfall of being a corgi. He watches warily as the children form a circular prison around them and thrust their hands into his fur.

“Sister! Help me!”

Mystique manages to squeeze out from between the human children’s legs and escapes, barking joyfully as she leaves Beast to his doom.

***

It takes many weeks of careful conditioning for Charles to finally get the message and wakes up before the sun even dares to reach its golden fingers inside Charles’ bedroom. Beast brings Charles’ bunny slippers to him and then Havok gently herds a sleepy Charles down the stairs and into the kitchen where his muscle memory takes over to greet the morning with the sounds of his tea being brewed.

“You know,” Charles says with a large yawn as he shakes out their breakfast while waiting for his tea to steep, “I hope whatever reason you woke me up for is a bloody good one.”

Mystique sighs and tells Charles ‘yes’. She looks over at Banshee who takes his cue and makes a run for the door, his claws clicking on the wooden floor on the way to the door.

“Let me out, please!” Banshee says, looking over his shoulder to train his eyes up at Charles as he leans against the wood with a low whine. 

Mystique butts the back of Charles’ legs and urges him to go towards the front door. Beast and Havok loiter in the corridor, observing the moment they have been working so hard for the past month or two. If they got out too late, they were ready to chase down the Running Man. This is the moment. 

It is now or never.

Charles runs a hand through his unruly hair and sighs, drawing the fluffy blue bathrobe tighter around him. “I don’t usually get my morning papers this early and you all know it.”

“Yes, we know,” Banshee explains patiently while still looking as pitiful as possible, “but we really want to go outside because reasons.”

“Alright, alright,” Charles laughs as he undoes the locking mechanisms and then opens the door, and before Charles could say otherwise the four corgis make a dash for freedom just as running guy turns onto their street.

Mystique hadn’t taken into account that there is still the gate that stands in between Charles and the man. She turns to Beast who is already on his hind legs, trying to nose the lock open on the gate. 

“Quick! He’s nearly here!” Havok barks from his vantage point as their scout, standing majestically on some overturned pots.

“What are you lot so excited for this morning anyway? All this barking is going to wake the neighbours up.”

Beast growls at them - lockpicking gates takes far more effort than opening a pantry door - and crows in triumph when the gate yields and pops free from its lock.

She is out of the gate like a flash of lightning and does the only thing she can do to stop the running man from getting away: go in for the kill. She bites down on the leathery outside of Running Man’s shoe and holds. ‘Charles better appreciate the sacrifice I am making’, Mystique thinks.

Beast, Havok and Banshee follow her lead, all excited to see that something was finally happening after weeks and weeks of early starts and metaphorical blood, sweat and tears.

"Get back!" shouts Beast at the Running Man as he paces between gate and the man. “Stop!”

Havok laughs and as he dashes down the small step to attack Running Man’s other shoe with added enthusiasm.

Banshee is caught between yelling for Charles and for the man to just kiss him already.

"What the fuck," the man starts, looking down at them with a rather baffled expression on his face, "is this?"

Charles looks about as shocked as the man does, Mystique notes with smugness. She would do anything to get their pet to notice the Running Man.

Recovering quickly, Charles flushes pink from embarrassment and hopefully attraction, and begins to babble, “Oh, god, I’m so terribly sorry. Did they hurt you? They really are harmless. They just get a little over-excited sometimes and, I say, you’re quite sweaty, aren’t you? And wearing so very little. Hello.”


End file.
